It’s late October. It’s rainy. I hate the fall.
I drove home from my brother’s birthday party in the rain tonight.
I decided to talk to myself while I drove,
Instead of listening to the white-green light of the radio.
I told myself what I think it means to be from my home.
It felt good to have someone listen.
I purchased a quilt from a woman on Etsy.
In the listing she mentioned that if there were no takers,
She was keeping it for herself.
It compelled me to buy it.
It makes it seem like I’m getting something I shouldn’t have.
A bit dirty, but satisfied.
I made the Jimmy John’s delivery guy laugh.
I got the guy ringing up my candy to smile.
If I met someone on equal ground,
Maybe I’d be strong enough to make them laugh too,
But I pass myself by them cheerily enough,
So they’ll be introduced and not remember me.
The man who lived in here before me,
Loved my roommate.
Maybe it’s good I’m taking his space,
Giving new customs, idiosyncrasies to the way cast iron skillets sit on the shelves.
But, to me, it feels like I still haven’t found a place to cry in peace.
I had my favorite realization again.
I love when it comes along.
It reminds me that my women have steel underneath them.
He could leave me, ghost me,
And I’d be fine. I’ll always be fine with or without a man.
Ice cold steel, baby, ain’t nothing like it.
And it’s the fault of my step-father for never seeing it run through his wife.
Stronger, fiercer, and meaner than you’ll ever know,
We’re out waiting you to die.
Then we’ll be just fine.